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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731465">i've got a love for you (that i can't escape)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArliaDevi/pseuds/ArliaDevi'>ArliaDevi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>forty seasons [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Facial Shaving, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Go To The Coast, Light Angst, M/M, Massage, Tenderness, geralt's love language is acts of service</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:13:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArliaDevi/pseuds/ArliaDevi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t slit your throat in the bathtub in a room we share at an Inn.’ Carefully, he drags the blade down Jaskier’s cheek before washing the suds off in the bathwater. ‘Everyone would know it was me. Tip your head up.’</p><p>‘Not everyone. Could be the stable boy. But I suppose you would be the first suspect.’ Jaskier exposes his neck. ‘And how would you kill me? If you wanted to?’</p><p>Or, </p><p>Geralt appreciates Jaskier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>forty seasons [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>804</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i've got a love for you (that i can't escape)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They arrive in Ard Carraigh in the early afternoon after travelling for four days. It’s early spring but so far north, the land has barely thawed. The days are still cold and biting and after so long nestled in the warm comforts of Kaer Morhen, Jaskier’s body isn’t used to the demands of life on the road.</p><p>They sleep on the ground, eat the leftover preserves given as parting gifts from the Keep sustaining them for the journey down the mountain. The rabbits are lean from the winter, the deer skittish.</p><p>When they arrive, there is no work to be done. Lambert had cleaned the town of ghouls when he’d swept through a few weeks ago. Still, the townsfolk have not had a bard as well known as Jaskier frequent their village in some time, and the sound of strumming is enough to have the townsfolk creep out of their homes and into the tavern.</p><p>Geralt rests in the corner of the bar, enjoying a cold ale as Jaskier sings and strums and dances through the crowd. In the weeks spent at Kaer Morhen, he’s penned several new songs and peppers them between the classics the crowd know and love. The ones he trials now are considerably tame, uncomplicated ditties, but Geralt had listened to his work all winter as he composed ballads and epics and other songs that were, frankly, banned outside the confines of their bedroom.</p><p>The candles burn down as Jaskier’s energy dwindles. The night is cold; a memory of harsh winter. Geralt calls over a barmaid and orders a hot bath just as Jaskier comes over to suck down a mouthful of his fresh ale.</p><p>‘How’d I sound, darling?’ Jaskier asks as he slides into the booth. ‘I felt a little rusty.’</p><p>‘Your coin purse is full,’ Geralt replies. ‘That should be indication enough.’</p><p>‘Hm, I supposed when starved for entertainment, any old drivel will do.’ He takes another sip of the ale, finishing the glass. ‘I’m knackered, I think I may head upstairs. Are you staying down?’</p><p>Glaring at his now empty glass, Geralt huffs. ‘Seems not.’</p><p>They’re in their room for naught but a moment when a stableboy brings in a cauldron of hot water. Jaskier gives Geralt an appreciative look.</p><p>‘Oh you’re good to me, Geralt,’ he sighs. The stableboy finishes filling the tub as Jaskier adds bathing salts. ‘I’m full of aches and pains like you wouldn’t believe.’</p><p>Jaskier goes to take off his doublet, but hesitates–</p><p>‘Get in, Jaskier,’ Geralt huffs.</p><p>Quickly, Jaskier throws off his clothes and sinks into the hot water, hissing as the water touches the back of his thighs. It’s just on the right side of being too hot; exactly how Geralt likes it.</p><p>‘I must really smell atrocious if you’re letting me go first.’</p><p>‘Truly,’ Geralt thumbs through his potions. Plucking an oil from his pack, he crosses the floor and leans against the streaming tub. Jaskier’s head tips back, a sigh slipping from his parted lips. Geralt spies a discoloured mark on his shoulder in the shape of a handprint and feels something bloom in him.</p><p>‘You’re not coming in, then?’</p><p>Geralt slips behind him, fingers pressing against Jaskier’s neck, against the base of his skull.</p><p>Jaskier relaxes into the touch, sinking further down in the tub. ‘Oh, well, this is a treat.’</p><p>‘Don’t be smart or I’ll dunk you.’ Geralt scoops a little water from the bath and lets it run down the crown of Jaskier’s head. When his hair is wet enough, Geralt pours a dollop of liquid of lavender-scented oil onto his palm. The scent is strong, even for his nose.</p><p>‘Oh, that smells lovely,’ Jaskier purrs.</p><p>He spends more time than necessary working the oil into Jaskier’s scalp, working up a lather until the bubbles dip down his shoulders and he has an excuse to massage the oil into the muscles of his neck and shoulders.</p><p>‘Do you want a shave?’ Geralt asks as he feels the inch-long stubble along Jaskier’s jawline. He grows a patchy beard, even as he nears thirty, and Geralt knows he prefers to keep clean-shaven.</p><p>Jaskier stills, rubs a hand to his chin. ‘I suppose I should.’</p><p>Geralt drags over his saddlebag and finds his straight razor, running the pad of his thumb over the blade. It’s sharp enough.  </p><p>Geralt leans over to lather Jaskier up, only to feel the other man flinch as he catches sight of the blade.</p><p>‘Really?’ Geralt huffs as Jaskier stiffens. ‘I’m better with a blade than you.’</p><p>‘I know, darling. Force of habit.’ Jaskier straightens up, lets Geralt press the blade against his chin.</p><p>‘If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t slit your throat in the bathtub in a room we share at an Inn.’ Carefully, he drags the blade down Jaskier’s cheek before washing the suds off in the bathwater. ‘Everyone would know it was me. Tip your head up.’</p><p>‘Not everyone. Could be the stable boy. But I suppose you would be the first suspect.’ Jaskier exposes his neck. ‘And how would you kill me? If you wanted to?’</p><p>Geralt runs the blade down the soft side of the skin, notices the slight discolouration of a healing mark as he shaves away the short hairs. ‘Poison. I’m immune to most. There are a few I could keep underneath my tongue, slip them into your mouth.’</p><p>‘Oh yes, I’d like that,’ Jaskier hums as Geralt washes off the blade again. ‘How poetic. His Sweet Kiss, indeed.’</p><p>Geralt offers him an amused smile. ‘I thought you’d like it.’</p><p>He dips his hand into the luke-warm water before casting <em>igni</em>. The water bubbles gently, steam rising off. Jaskier sighs.</p><p>‘Vesemir wouldn’t approve,’ Jaskier mutters as his eyes slip closed.</p><p>‘Vesemir isn’t here,’ Geralt takes Jaskier’s chin to turn his head. ‘So, how would you kill me if you could?’</p><p>Jaskier keeps his eyes closed, the anxiety of Geralt shaving him slipping away. ‘Unlike other people, I don’t spend my waking hours thinking about all the ways I can kill others.’</p><p>‘Brave words for a man with a blade at his neck,’ Geralt mutters as he drags the razor over his Adam’s apple carefully. A final stroke and he runs his hands over Jaskier’s cheeks, soothing the irritated flesh. ‘Finished. Hold still.’</p><p>Geralt takes a flagon of clean water and washes out the suds in Jaskier’s hair; it’s not as hot as the bathwater, and Jaskier squirms as the cold runs down his shoulders.</p><p>‘Dry off and get on the bed.’ Geralt hits him on the shoulder lightly. ‘Facedown.’</p><p>Jaskier grabs at the towel handed to him, wiping over his chin and neck before stepping out of the tub. He crosses the room, settling on the clean linens as Geralt rifles through his pack. Upon finding the small jar of fatty oil, he crosses the floor and settles beside Jaskier, throwing his leg over his hips to settle on the small of his back.</p><p>Jaskier tries to crane his head to turn, but as Geralt suspected, a sharp pain in his shoulder stops him.</p><p>‘What are you doing?’</p><p>‘Head against the pillow,’ Geralt says as he spreads oil across his hands before pressing them across Jaskier’s shoulders. Below him, the man groans into the pillow.</p><p>‘Oh, I really am <em>so</em> spoilt tonight.’</p><p>Slowly, Geralt works the muscles around Jaskier’s shoulders, careful of his strength. He’s never done this before, but Jaskier’s done to him enough to know how to apply pressure and move his hands in the right way. The fatty oil melts against Jaskier’s warm smooth skin. He traces the edge of an old scar, white and ridged against his fair skin. Experimentally, Geralt moves upwards, pressing his thumbs into the soft flesh by Jaskier’s neck.</p><p>Immediately the bark convulses underneath him. ‘Ow.’</p><p>Geralt’s hands leave him immediately. ‘Did I hurt you?’</p><p>‘Ah, it’s just a niggling pain,’ he mutters, voice muffled against the pillow.</p><p>Geralt returns to the area, fingers gentle. ‘I’ve noticed it’s given you trouble.’</p><p>‘Ah.’</p><p>‘You didn’t tell me.’</p><p>‘I jostled it one night hauling firewood up the stairs, it’s no matter. Truly.’ Jaskier sighs. ‘But please, don’t stop on my account.’</p><p>Geralt works the knot out of the muscle slowly, taking his time to work the muscles of his shoulders in a sweeping fashion until Jaskier is strangely quiet against the sheets. His heart rate is slow, relaxed but not asleep.</p><p>Shifting off Jaskier’s lower back, Geralt begins working at his thighs and calves, massaging the muscles until they are pliable under his fingers. By the time he finishes both legs, Jaskier is asleep, his arms sprawled out on the bed, his breathing low and shallow. He had expected as much, and quietly slips off the bed and drains the bathtub down the shute that leads out onto the tavern’s vegetable garden.</p><p>The sloshing of the water doesn’t rouse Jaskier, nor does he wake when the mattress dips again. In the early hours of the morning, Geralt wakes at the feeling of Jaskier curling against him, of cool fingers curling against his ribs. He opens an eye and sees Jaskier blinking owlishly back at him, cheeks flushed from sleep.  </p><p>‘That was lovely, darling. I’m sorry I couldn’t quite keep my eyes open.’</p><p>Geralt reaches out a hand to gently squeeze Jaskier’s shoulder.</p><p>‘It feels much better this morning.’</p><p>‘We’ll stay another night,’ Geralt murmurs. ‘The alderman has work for me today.’</p><p>Jaskier closes his eyes. ‘Very well.’</p><p>He thinks he may slip back into sleep, and despite the slight lightening of the sky, Geralt is amended to join him, but then Jaskier says, ‘Can I ask you something?’</p><p>‘Hm.’</p><p>‘Without you getting angry at me?’</p><p>That makes Geralt open his eyes again.</p><p>‘Jaskier.’</p><p>‘Perhaps we can travel to Oxenfurt,’ he says. ‘Spend some time by the seaside.’</p><p>Fingers brush his ribs under the cover.</p><p>He hasn’t swept the coastal villages north of Oxenfurt for close to a year. There will likely be work for weeks in the area. The villages are closer to each other than they are in the country; they could find a cabin somewhere in the middle, where it is not a long ride to any township.</p><p>Geralt pulls Jaskier’s warm body closer.</p><p>‘Is that a yes?’ he asks hopefully.</p><p>‘It is long overdue.’</p><p> </p><p>They arrive in Oxenfurt in three weeks later, their coin purses moderately full from the work found along the road. Jaskier is asked by a friend to stay, and they end up lodging for three nights, where Jaskier collects an obscene amount of money and checks on his financial affairs. Geralt changes Roach’s shoes, replaces some of his belongings, takes up a contract or two, until they finally decide to travel north.</p><p>The sea breeze hits him, sinks into his bones, makes him break out into a shiver. Jaskier sighs beside him, an audible response to the relaxing of his body. They find a small cottage on the outskirts of the town. The trail from the front door leads through a garden springing with foxgloves and wildflowers, down to the vast, flat glittering expanse of the sea.</p><p>‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ Jaskier gushes as he settles in the cottage, falling on the plush bed. ‘Thank you.’</p><p>The thanks feel strange; settle weirdly in his gut. He does not like the idea that Jaskier feels that he needs to thank Geralt for spending time with him, for putting a mattress under his body, for letting him enjoy his too-brief life-</p><p>‘Geralt,’ he calls from the bed. ‘I can hear you thinking from across the room. Put your pack down and come and lie down with me, just for a moment.’</p><p>Geralt drops his pack by the door. Later, he will have to unpack properly, count his potions, start organising his things, but for now, he lets Jaskier pull him down to the feather mattress and begins slipping off his armour.</p><p>Jaskier’s rises to his knees to help, his hands just as well-practised of getting him out of his armour as Geralt’s now. His mouth is hot and needy as it presses to every inch of exposed skin. Geralt almost tells him to slow down. There is enough time to take things slowly, to not burn down the candle of desire so quickly, but as Jaskier’s mouth trails down his chest, he thinks desire is not such a candle but an eternal flame, the kind he has seen in places of worship, just as Jaskier sinks to his knees.</p><p>Later, they are bathed and fed and mostly sated, lying in front of a crackling fire. Jaskier kisses his chest once, to get his attention, and says, ‘I wish to ask you something, and I don’t want you to get angry.’</p><p>The conversation is like a mirror.</p><p>‘Jaskier,’ he sighs.</p><p>Jaskier drops another kiss against his collarbone. ‘Talks swirled in the bars of Oxenfurt that armies of the south move higher.’</p><p>Geralt feels something heavy settle over him. ‘The ramblings of drunk men are just that.’</p><p>‘These men were the kingdom spies-,’</p><p>Geralt shifts up onto his elbows. ‘Jaskier.’</p><p>‘Ah, you promised you would not get angry.’</p><p>‘I did not promise that. You requested, but I did not agree.’ He falls back onto the pillow. ‘Do not get involved in this, Jaskier.’</p><p>‘I would not, except that it is you who is involved, and therefore, I am involved because I am involved with you.’</p><p>He sighs heavily at the cryptic circles Jaskier speaks. ‘Speak plainly.’</p><p>Jaskier takes in a breath as if steeling himself. ‘The child surprise.’</p><p>Geralt grunts and nudges him off, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.</p><p>‘Geralt, the armies are advancing, Cintra is in their sight.’</p><p>‘She is not my child,’ Geralt replies as he scoops his shirt from the floor. The heat of the room is suddenly too much. He needs to get out, clear his head.</p><p>‘I worry for her, Geralt.’</p><p>‘She is not your child.’</p><p>Jaskier doesn’t reply to this. Instead, he sighs and pulls the thin sheet around his shoulders, settling in for the night. Crossing the floor, Geralt spies the onset of rain far out on the dark water; it will be upon them within no time, so he settles by the fire and begins counting out his potions.</p><p>‘I’ve said all I wanted to say,’ Jaskier says suddenly. ‘I could not have enjoyed this trip with you without letting you know what I know.’</p><p>Geralt doesn't reply but Jaskier’s sudden outburst has made him lose count. As Jaskier sighs and rolls over, Geralt begins counting again.</p><p> </p><p>The lion cub of Cintra will be safe with her real family. Her kin. Flesh and blood.</p><p>The bastion has never been breached.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This part of the series is a lot tamer than the others - if you're joining us now, the other parts of the forty seasons series are E-rated, so just be warned if you are looking to catch up. I eventually have plans to link the timeline up to my fic Companionship, which is about Ciri's travels with her two dorky dads. </p><p>This was proofed, but there are probably still errors - forgive me!</p><p>Title inspo from cigarettes afer sex</p><p>Thank you for taking the time to read! Staying inside and reading fanfic will get us through this.<br/>I lurk <a href="https://twitter.com/abra_pressler">on Twitter</a> for anyone who does too!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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